


Lesbians of Gor

by spaceboy



Category: Gor Chronicles - John Norman
Genre: F/F, Feminist Themes, Fix-It, Parody, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy/pseuds/spaceboy
Summary: For SOME REASON, I decided to try reading a Gor book the other day. It was. . . . very bad. I mean, I wasn't expecting it to be GOOD, but. . . . it was very bad. And then I went exploring for info about the people in the "lifestyle" and. . . . it was even worse. Then I tripped and made sort of a parody-slash-fix-it fic, in which a group of women on Gor twist the laws to their advantage. It's not much, but I hope somebody gets a giggle out of it. JSYK, this fic is appropriate for all audiences but nothing about the actual Gor books or lifestyle should be consumed by -- well, ANYONE, honestly, but particularly minors.





	Lesbians of Gor

“Today,” said the Teacher, “We will be learning the Position of Submission of the Captive Female.”

A few of her pupils -- all of them beautiful Free Women -- laughed, and one blurted out what the others were thinking. 

“You’re joking, right? We are Free Women; why would we learn slave positions?” Astela, the most beautiful and most outspoken of them, asked. 

“I am not joking. You are mostly correct to say that you do not need to learn slave positions. However, the Position of Submission of the Captive Female is the one position you must learn, because it may save your life. If you are taken captive by a raider, you will be killed, unless you assume the Position of Submission of the Captive Female and beg to be taken as a captive instead.”

“Then I just won’t get taken captive by a raider!”

The other girls laughed, but more nervously this time.

“Unfortunately, that’s statistically impossible, as the figures show that 99.99% of women on Gor spend at least some portion of their lives as kajirae -- slaves, that is. And since you’ve already used up this much time not being kajirae, it’s pretty much guaranteed that this will happen to you in the next couple chapters. Who knows what kind of locks they might use to keep you captive. . . .”

“All right, all right,” said Astela, rolling her eyes. “I’ll do anything you want, just don’t start another hour long lecture on locks. Teach me this oh-so-important Position of the Submission of the Captive Female, then. I’ll even help you out, I’ll demonstrate. Just tell me what to do.”

“Step One: Kneel, sitting back on your heels.”

Astela performed the motion easily, facing the Teacher. “Okay. That was easy.”

“Step Two: Hold out your arms in front of you and cross your wrists.”

“Check.”

“Step Three: Lower your head.”

“Got it,” said Astela, voice slightly muffled now as her face was pointing at the ground, head between her arms.

“That’s the position, you’ve got it! Now you just have to say the words -- ”

“You didn’t tell me this was a public speaking demonstration too!” protested Astela, though maintaining her position.

“Well, silently assuming the position is technically sufficient, but if -- or rather when -- you find yourself with a bloodthirsty warrior holding a shortsword over your neck, you’re going to want to add some words to make sure you’re being very clear and very persuasive about wanting to be a slave rather than a corpse.”

“Okay, okay, what are the words?”

“Repeat after me.”

“Repeat after me.”

The Teacher glared at Astela, but Astela couldn’t see, since she was dutifully keeping her head down. The Teacher chose not to address it and moved on.

“I declare myself a slave.”

“I declare myself a slave.”

“And I submit to you as my master.”

“And I submit to you as my master.”

“Very good. That’s all. You can get up now.”

“Very good. That’s all. You can get up now.”

“Astela!”

“Yes, teacher.” Astela hopped to her feet, shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. 

“You still think this is funny, do you?” asked the Teacher.

“Yes.”

“Well, let me tell you just how serious this is. If you were, right now, to go out into the street and find a Free Man -- any Free Man -- and perform the Position of the Submission of the Captive Female before him and say those words, that would be a legally binding forfeiture of your freedom and you would, on the spot, become that Free Man’s slave.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s all it takes?”

“That’s all. That is completely sufficient.”

“That’s kind of dumb.”

“Well, this is Gor.”

“So, what happens if you do it before another Free Woman?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well, what if a Free Woman was about to cut off my head with a short sword?”

“Why on Gor would she do that?”

“I don’t know, but if she did, wouldn’t it be better to become her slave than die?”

“I. . . suppose so.”

“So would I have access to this life-saving enslavement procedure in that case?”

“I. . . . suppose so. But the statistical likelihood of that -- “

But before she could expound on the statistical likelihood of that happening, Astela had dropped to her knees. “In that case, I have nothing to fear from raiders, because I just performed the Position of Submission of the Captive Female in front of a Free Woman and I am now your slave, Teacher!”  
The teacher’s entire face went from a lovely pale shade to a scorching red in an instant. “Now, that’s just ridiculous. Get up.”

Astela stood up. “As my master commands!”

“No, that wasn’t a -- that’s not how it works!”

Another Free Woman, who had hung toward the back of the room and stayed silent till now, finally spoke up. “Actually, Teacher, you just told us that’s exactly how it works!”

“Obviously this was only a demonstration, Maba.”

“But she did the thing! You said that was all it took! You said it was completely sufficient!”

“I -- I --” stammered the Teacher, before laughing. “Ha ha, this is a lovely joke. Time to get back to class.” 

“Okay!” said Maba, the Free Woman in the back. “I guess we had all better practice.” She turned to the Free Woman next to her. “Voradi, can I practice with you?”

Voradi’s eyes lit up. She bounced up and down, pressing her hands over her mouth in excitement. 

“You -- you mean it? You -- want to?”

“Yes, if you do!”

“Then -- then -- yes!”

Both Free Women squealed with delight. Maba knelt and put her arms out and her head down and spoke the words of submission to Voradi.

“Wait,” said Voradi, “Now what if I do it back to you? Can we both be each other’s slave?”

“Why are you asking this one?” asked Maba with a grin that could be heard in her voice even though her face was downcast. “This one is but a humble kajira!”

“Oh, right! Well, humble kajira, I command you to get up and let me perform the Position of Submission of the Captive Female to you!”

“As you wish, Master!” Maba hopped to her feet and Voradi dropped to her knees. All around the room, the other Free Women were breaking apart into pairs and small groups to pledge themselves to each other. The Teacher stood at the front of the room, watching, horror-stricken. Astela stood patiently in front of her as long as she could -- but patience was not Astela’s strong suit. 

“May this girl have permission to speak, Master?” she asked.

“Do whatever you want,” snapped the Teacher. 

“Master, if you do not desire the services of this girl, I think Maba and Voradi might. You could give her to them! Although. . . . I don’t know what the rules are now since they both seem to own each other. Does it still work on them?”

This was the last straw for the Teacher. She burst out of the room, and, from what the students could tell from all crowding against the window together to watch, she appeared to have run into the street and performed the Position of Submission of the Captive Female to the first Free Man she spotted, who, though somewhat bewildered, was happy to accept her submission -- though not nearly as happy as she was to give it. 

“I guess it’s true what they say,” sighed Astela, watching the Teacher follow her new master down the street. “Some women just can’t handle the pressure of being Free.”


End file.
